Long Unconventional Poems
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SHE was beautiful in ways that weren’t the norm,
Her nuances, her fun, her yes,
I loved her “Do it here- Do it now- All or nothing” style,
Yet I fled from her address.
Then, SHE wore a random erratic, progressively proud,
In her unconventional war,
I loved everything about her, but I left as fast as I could,
Through the front screen door.
And SHE challenged all that I feared, challenged all that I loved,
Loving me hard each day,
Always happy to see me and break the rule, against a wall,
Still, I watched her float away.
From a spontaneous travel, to a defined blazing show,
To a loud, red hot cyclone,
These are the women who’ve held my heart in their hand,
The women that I have known.
friendships take.....time
an investment of emotions
sacrifice
determination not to let
things slide
intentional
it's all intentional
perhaps unconventional
in a world where
look out for Number 1
is the best tune to hum
true friendships
don't happen in a void
"I don't have the time"
not the right rhyme
for friendship's poetic rhythm
Friendships take...love
not the conditional kind
but unconditionally blind
to the faults
and seeing the sincere
hidden inside
a friend will confide
and abide
in friendship's sphere
dear and near
Friendships take...visits
drop by to say, "Hi!"
and share a piece of pie
to laugh and cry
and watch the days go by
friendships are forever
didn't you know?
when your soul is on show
affection can grow
friendships take me
friendships take you
always and forever new
a true friend
it's so true
is someone
so perfectly and exactly and endearingly like you!
Dedicated to Richard L on his birthday!
Form:
To have my cake and eat it too
The best of both with no adieu
Pint sized comforts, nestled in
Where personal space is growing thin
Amongst the city that never sleeps
Behind four walls, no one peeps
A Consistently unconventional land
Safety first, but nothing bland
Taking only what we need
Skim illustrations, don't read
Why not, have it all
Forget the rules. Play ball
A boldly tasteful discoloration
Sweet apple pie, tobasco blend
A tabletop dance
Following tea
Steamy romance
Without the ring
All of the shimmer
Nothing mundane
A life giver
Pleasure, no pain
Lord,
In the midst of this confusion, I
find myself tethered
not only to these damp walls
but also to the adoration
of my own predicament.
How utterly divine,
to speak my descent into madness
with the solemnity
of a Shakespearean tragedy.
The genesis of these scribbled confessions,
it eludes me, lost in the fog of my own folly.
Was there a grand epiphany?
A moment of clarity amidst the chaos,
that compelled me to pray to you?
Or did I simply succumb to
the gravitational pull of gratitude,
seeking solace in the world of errors
that has become my life?
It all began with a knock,
a mundane interruption in the poverty
of my existence. My uncle's friend, they said,
a shadowy figure whose presence looms over me,
making me want to reach out
and make love to him.
I thank you for his existence.
Locked within these walls, I have become
both captive and captor, birthing tales
of woe and whimsy
with each stroke of my lover.
The whip, once a symbol of pain and punishment,
now holds the honour of being
my darling's favourite instrument,
its sting a reminder of the affection
that he showers me with.
Days blur into nights, and still,
I find myself ensnared
in the tangled web of my own neediness.
Memories flicker
like poorly lit scenes in a slapstick comedy,
leaving me to wonder
if there was ever a time
before this madness gripped me.
Did I once long for freedom, or
have I always been a willing participant
in this circus of Eros?
The police may come soon,
their voices echoing like the laugh track
of the poorly scripted sitcom
my love unfortunately enjoys watching.
Part of me prays for them to turn away.
For in the depths of my captivity,
I have discovered a love that defies reason.
A love born
from the most unconventional of circumstances.
And so, I will continue to write,
these entries a testament to the dream
that has become my reality.
For even in the midst of mania,
there is romance to be found.
Even in the arms of my captor,
there is warmth.
Thank you,
for this blissful hell.
Katrina
I challenge you to a rhetorical
to prove me wrong else be unconventional
‘bout a problem that’s gone systematical
everyone’s so radical and cynical
once burnt all swear to now be rational
petrified to be poetical and get physical
relationships always problematical
they start off superficial hardly practical
usually nonsensical and contradictional
end up analytical emotional or psychological
enigmatical fanatical or plain lethargical
sometimes as wild as satanical
yet sure enough it’s almost typical
it’s really absurdly comical
the inevitable becomes the eventual
you go and fall and it’s unconditional
starts off all angelical and sensational
turns out illogical and territorial
often becomes tyrannical
immoral and unethical
then cryptical and diabolical
there has to be something remedial
it’s just too tragical
how we now prefer to be online virtual
we might as well be asexual
because there’s no sense being sensual
we’re all too freak’n skeptical
to believe in the magical and supernatural
do you have a comeback what’s in your arsenal
or are you just too visceral
or too darn busy being metaphysical
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted ton March 5, 2018 for contest QUICK FIRE RAPID RHYME sponsored by BRENDA CHIRI - RANKED 4TH
SHADOWS
leaflike
cracks
circled
around
reminding
there
is no
certainty
reputation
fades
into oblivion
lays
forgotten once
once
exhilarating,
enthralling
&outstandingly
impressive
in
an array
of advocates
knocked back
a
passionate
unconventional
& persuasive
dream
thought
juxtaposed
a
profound
rigorous
meticulous
approach
attention
to detail
understatement
expressed
in
relationship
with
deep
feeling
very tender
&
elegiac
poignantly
falls
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
MYSTICAL
Life gives me a mystical meaning for I am unique,
an original, wonderfully and meticulously created.
They say “God works in mysterious ways” and it
is true for I do believe and find my life a mystery.
Why would I not? I did not cry and was not breathing
when I was born, a premature blue baby and yet
survived without being in an incubator; but by
breathing the steam of eucalyptus leaves for a month.
A doctor told me they could not do anything for me
when I was five that my grandfather sought the help
of an unconventional healer and I got better and well.
So well, able to carry on with my childhood to adulthood.
At nineteen, when my first child was born I was fifty
fifty and was out for more than a day, the time I asked
Him to spare my life for I did not want to leave my child
to be raised by someone else, like what happened to me.
There were other inexplicable incidents that happened
for the next twenty nine years that followed and the last
was twelve years ago, when I was celebrating my fifty eight
birthday in New Mexico during the Hot Air Balloon Fiesta.
My two daughters and I were in the hot air balloon in
the sky when it just started going down, down, down.
Falling down on the stony, grassy, uneven ground sideways
and dragged hundreds of feet, when thankfully it stopped.
The balloon got caught in cacti plants that cut through it.
We got out of the basket shocked, scared, shaken and
I told my daughters to pose so I could take a picture.
I heard “Mom!!!” and I told them “Come on, we’re alive”.
There are many times, I always catch myself pondering
in the stillness of the moment what all these mean?
I am pretty certain; I am no mystical woman or person;
but I am mystifyingly in awe with all these experiences.
There is a sense of spiritual mystery that inspires me to
believe more in Him, His presence and His mystical ways.
Written: 9/17/21
"M" Contest, New Poems Only - Poetry
Constance La France
Holograms and hieroglyphs
The whole weighs heavily
touched caressed lightly
brushed on feather canvass
granite marble marvellous papyrus
innocence rejuvenated
partial and impartial
Chiselled in and out
of comprehension angled
layered facets facts
subjective trueness
ciphered and deciphered
Snow flakes teardrops
ink on paper hailing crystals
pastel rainbows thunderbolts
and blind pitch black darkness
tell the story weathered lives
Freedom torrent lightening
anxious reproduction
wholesome holes concatenations
metaphoric mosaic translates
picturesque ‘holos’ trying to emerge
Vertex vortex on horizons
told untold forgotten
and beyond beheld
diagonal a-synchronicity
discovered spoken written
felt and never once complete
Lyric lasers beaming densely
condensation compromised
at the cutting edge of aural light
lacking graphic clarity
eluding synthesized illusion
Once we decipher unconventional
primal prismatic re-reflections
meanings life calligraphy
inscriptions narrative conceptions
we enclose and liberate
the hologram that seems to be
Infinite eternity of scripts
encrypted systems
webs of life’s distortions
fragmentation truth reality
paint the picture of
conflicting contradictions
making sense constructions
lithographic mystery
moulded into understanding
Holograms are limited to
the scope of three dimensions
tending mind and body soul
complementing contrasts
hollow narrow depth untold
Burrowed in words rational
irrational emotions rationale
defence deflections oppressed
repression incarceration
loose out transitional
transcriptions miss the point by far
the bigger picture yet emerging
uncertain clarity sculpted
in hieroglyphic excavation
Carving holy boundless beauty
with the fourth dimension
of subjective sense perception
and the changing timeless
flowing circuit circus artwork
in the making reading writing
on the imaginary wall of life
over and above the hologram
engraved in fallacies
arrests of real unreal reality and
strikes the balance never known
of what is and only seems to be
22th May 2016-05-22
Contest entered: Holograms and Hieroglyphs
It was as if a dead man had a hold of my throat.
Each of his fingers (he had but one hand),
was a bone handled butter knife
dull,
but together they clamped my breath like a vice.
"We’ve got to get you in ASAP,
You’re going to choke to death."
Death loosened its grip on me
as if hearing its name said out loud.
The Doctors office jumped sideways into
an erratic twilight zone, inflating and deflating
as I sat in a bleary bubble of shock.
Death squeezed harder
until I wheezed like a broken accordion.
"Look!"
I looked at the X-Ray, my larynx, and around it
woody vines, fibrous ropes clutching
a narrowing breathing tube. A Gordon’s knot.
I told the surgeon about the knot.
He nodded gravely and said,
"It wants to strangle you."
Is there a name for this condition?
"Yes, we call it:
‘Dead Man Strangling Syndrome,’
surgery is the only answer,
delicate, difficult, decidedly unconventional surgery,
that’s the only way forward.
First we need butter, lots of it, and an exorcist.
Are you a Catholic?"
Yes I was born in original sin
and a spreading guilt.
"Excellent" he said, rubbing his hands together,
"then we may have a chance."
Internally unconventional, externally conform,
In the game of life, it's the norm.
Always watch yourself, like you're on a stage,
Avoid regrets, don't let your actions rage.
Bullies on the block, they don't care if you're nice,
Speak soft, carry a big stick, that's my advice
They don't care that you meant well, or how you feel
your weakness is the foe, your strength keeps it real.
[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, same human flaws, they just repeat
Psychopaths and criminals, a mystery untold,
Their motives twisted, their stories cold.
Confronting bad men, assume the worst,
Act accordingly, before you're cursed.
Watch out for the idealist, promising revolution,
They'll manipulate your mind, cause confusion.
Destruction lurks in unseen directions,
Beware the traps, and their misdirections.
[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, relax, take a seat, it's the same beat
No one's exempt from history's grip,
Great men's mistakes, we all might slip.
Bad organizations, breeding ground for sin,
Leaders rise, with darkness within
Beware the people with a disconnect
They preach one thing, but act incorrect
Activists on Indian land, claim they're green,
Leave trash all over, for natives to clean
Reading minds from faces, a futile endeavor,
Intentions hidden, like predicting the weather.
Don't make assumptions, from a two second look
It takes time for people to reveal the inner book.
Troubles compound, the more you go down
Gotta face the facts, can't get out of town
One trouble leads to more, it's a vicious path,
The worst it gets, the more they laugh
[chorus]
you see the same rules on different scales
Where national policy spectacularly fails
you see in school and in the street
Details differ, same human flaws, they just repeat
These rules of life, hard-earned and wise,
Navigate the world, with open eyes.
In the dance of existence, don't be naive,
Leave the matrix, take care what you believe.